A Galdr of Rebirth
by quickand2thepointless
Summary: Reyson loses his will to live after his clan is massacred by spiteful humans, but his protector Tibarn knows just the thing to help him rediscover his lost voice. Reyson/Tibarn one-shot.


**A/N**: Tibarn and Reyson are two of my favorite FE characters, and I wanted to give them a bit of a backstory from time between the Sernes Massacre and the events of Path of Radiance. Based on their dialogue and oftentimes very sweet banter (or sexual in the case of Tibarn and the "just joking" bed tying incident), this is what I came up with about Reyson's arrival to Phoenicis and his subsequent friendship/relationship with his protector. Hope you enjoy!

0o0o0o0o0o0o

Every night, he sleeps with nightmares.

The same scene unfolds every time he closes his eyes in exhaustion, his fragile body too drained to fight the insistent pull of sleep that assaults him without fail when all his tears are spent and his room in the castle is drenched in shadows**. **He sees himself lying blissfully against the forest floor, his eyes closed and his wings folded protectively against his body for warmth. The air is strangely cool and quiet, but he does not seem to notice the unusual silence, the muted voice of the forest. He simply remains where he is, stretched out languidly on the cold blades of green and golden grass that tickle his skin so vividly that he forgets that he is dreaming, and that the forest where he sees himself sleeping is nothing more than ashes, sorrow, death, a dilapidated monument to a crime more heinous than any other the continent had ever seen.

He rests calmly on the floor of the forest until he can hear something faint crying out to him in the distance. A scream. An outburst of anger, something he has never before heard in his beloved Serenes. He opens his eyes in confusion, and to his surprise, he sees a large and barrel-chested beorc carrying a torch pacing above him, staring down into his face with manic and impassioned eyes. "What have you done to her?" he screams, swinging the torch in front of him like a sword. "You filthy murderer, what have you done?"

Reyson says nothing, but continues to watch the incensed beorc with incomprehension. The man's movements grow more frantic by the minute, his roars rising and falling in anger and desperation. "Why did you do it?" he asks the heron furiously, thrusting his torch forward again as if he is trying to set Reyson's face aflame with it. "What did the Apostle ever do to you? Why did you take her away from us?"

_I do not know the Apostle,_ Reyson says blankly in the Ancient Tongue. _If you are looking for her, she is not here._

The beorc shakes his head; clearly, Reyson's foreign language is too much for him to take. "Why am I even bothering?" he yells, his face contorting in rage. "You can't reason with subhumans. All you can do is kill 'em before they kill you." He turns his back on Reyson and cups his hands around his lips. "I found one over here. Come on!" When he receives no response, he mutters incomprehensibly under his breath and darts back into the heart of the forest.

Reyson rises to his feet and looks around him. The sky around the forest is darkening and he feels the very essence of the earth shifting under his feet. The joy, beauty, and order of the Serenes slowly drains away, leaving him with the sense that he is standing in an emotionless void, completely and utterly alone.

_Mother? _His voice cracks as he calls out tentatively into the emptiness. _Father?_

No answer. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. There is something strangely chaotic about the air that makes it hard to think. His head spins unpleasantly, and he feels himself swaying on his feet. Are those screams distance? Why would there be screaming in his beautiful forest? Why would the air be so silent and sharp smelling in such a peaceful and pure place? What is happening?

Reyson can hear when the beorc returns. He does not see him; even when he opens his eyes again, his vision has blackened, covered in a strange and smoky haze that makes him blind to his surroundings. He whirls around in a panic and screams out to the looming monster, _I know you're here,_ but the human does not respond. Reyson tries to wave his hands in front of his eyes to dispel the smoke, but nothing happens. He wonders faintly if he is going mad.

Suddenly, without warning, his body feels as if it being doused in sunlight. Not a pleasant amount, but too much, as if he is standing on the surface of the sun. He can see no light in front of him or behind him, but he knows it's there somewhere, veiled in darkness just like the beorc. Reyson opens his mouth to call to him again, but he chokes and coughs, a heady and sickening stench burning his nostrils. All of a sudden, he realizes that it's not sunlight that is igniting his body. It's fire.

"Justice for the Apostle!" the human roars from somewhere Reyson can't see. "You should beg for mercy, you worthless subhuman! I want to hear you beg for it like the animal that you are!"

The heron knows that if he doesn't speak, the angry beorc will kill him. He opens his mouth and begins choking again. He'll die whether he says something or not, he decides, so he shuts his mouth and curls up on the ground, holding back the coughs building up in his throat.

"No," he whispers so softly he doubts his killer can hear. In another moment, he feels his breath slowly leaving him, his body going limp.

And then, as always, he awakens.

0o0o0o0o0o0o

He isn't sure what really happened to him on that night. Tibarn says that he found Reyson and Lorazieh collapsed in front of the Altar, both of them near death and barely breathing. All Reyson can remember is waking up in Phoenicis a few days after the massacre to find the formidable Hawk King staring down at him in utter relief. Tibarn had made sure he was fed and bathed (although the smell of smoke never quite left him for a time) before asking him if he could remember anything about the humans who had burned down his home, but Reyson had nothing to offer him. He didn't recall anything about that day but the feeling of fire in his lungs and the sounds of his brethren screaming and dying around him in droves. He could only imagine what had happened, and from his imagination the nightmare was born.

With a sigh, Reyson opens his eyes and makes to pull his sheets away from his sweat soaked body, but he's stopped by a scarred and beaten hand finding his wrist and latching it securely in a firm grip. He looks up to find Tibarn standing above him, a gruesome expression on his face.

"You had another nightmare," Tibarn states teresly, his eyes glinting with a fearsome anger that frightens Reyson even though he knows it isn't directed at him. "I thought they would have stopped by now."

"I...I..." Reyson stumbles as he tries to find the right words in Common Tongue. "I... fine, Tibarn."

"No, you're not," the hawk says sharply. "Damnit, Reyson. You shouldn't have to relive it night after night. You're like a walking ghost. How are we ever going to make you get better?"

_I won't get better_, Reyson replies, abandoning the language he is only just beginning to learn properly_. My heart will never stop bleeding._

"So you're going to let the humans win. Just like that. They burn down your forest, so you're just going to roll over and die like they want you to, huh?"

_Herons don't fight. And I have nothing left to live for. My family is dead, and I have no heart or voice left to sing my songs with. Leave me alone, Tibarn._

"It'll take a lot more than that to get rid of me. On behalf of Phoenicis, I have vowed to protect you and your father for as long as necessary, and I don't intend to go back on my word."

_You don't need to feel bound by duty to us. Our kind has already become little better than ashes. Maybe you should just let us join them._

"You belittle my relationship with you and your family by insinuating that I'm doing this because of _duty_. I'm not. I want you to live because you're one of my dearest friends, and it is my opinion the world would be worse off without you in it." Tibarn folds his massive arms across his chest. "Now, let's see. Obviously giving you time to sort this out on your own isn't going to work. Well, Reyson, looks like it's time for Plan B."

_Didn't I tell you to go away?_

"Didn't I tell you it would take more than that to get rid of me?" Tibarn tugs on Reyson's wrist, pulling him to his feet. "Get dressed. You have a big day ahead of you."

"No," Reyson snaps in the Common Tongue; he'd learned that useful word early on in his studies of the language.

"I'm not kidding, Reyson. If you're going to live in Phoenicis, the least you could do is learn a little bit about the life of a hawk. But you're not going to find out anything if you stay cooped up in this room of yours."

"No."

"So you want to do this the hard way?" Tibarn rolls his eyes and digs through Reyson's dresser to find a fresh shirt for him. "At least put this on and come down for breakfast. We'll worry about the rest later, all right?"

_I'm not interested in watching all of you eat innocent creatures for a snack._

"Close your eyes, then. I've got the best berries and fruits in the country at your disposal if you'll just come downstairs."

"Tibarn..."

"Reyson." Tibarn's frown finally turns upwards into a smile. "Get it through your skull that I'm not giving up on you. We all lost so much when those humans burned down the Serenes, and I'm not losing you, too."

Reyson sighs and snatches the shirt from Tibarn's arms. "Fine. I... go eat if you want."

"I do."

"Fine."

"Fine."

0o0o0o0o0o0o

The palpable excitement of the hawks surprises Reyson as he takes his seat at the table. Ever since Tibarn brought the two surviving herons to Phoenicis, Reyson had done little more than stay in his room and stare out the window, only leaving from time to time to be with his father or speak with Tibarn alone whenever the king had questions for him. He hadn't expected there to be much interest in him, especially since he had showed such little interest in return, so it astonishes him when he walks into the room to find all eyes eagerly turned to him.

"The White Prince!" someone gasps, and this announcement sends everyone into a flurry of exicted chatter.

"Look at his wings!" a very burly hawk whispers loudly. "White as snow!"

"He's so beautiful!" a petite female points out, her cheeks darkening when Reyson turns to look at her in alarm at her remark.

"See, I told you you've been in your room too long," Tibarn whispers to the heron as he sets down a platter of berries in front of him. "They've been dying to see you ever since you got here, but you've been hiding from them. That's why I think you should take today to spread your wings and put yourself out there. It'll be good for you."

_I don't want to be stared at by everyone_.

"Hate to say it, but with a face like yours, you can't escape being stared at."

_A face like mine? Is there something wrong with my face?_

Before Tibarn can respond, Janaff, one of his aides, elbows him in the ribs. "Pardon the interruption, but did you just say that Prince Reyson will be coming with us today?" he asks. "Wonderful! Time to give him a real taste of the country!"

_But I haven't agreed to anything yet, Tibarn!_

"Oh yeah, he's coming with us all right," Tibarn answers for Reyson, smirking broadly.

_Tibarn! Don't you ever listen?_

"Oh, I listen to people who speak reason to me. You don't qualify yet. Besides, don't knock the life of a hawk until you try it. I think you'll acutally enjoy it."

_What, do you sing songs to the trees and live in harmony with nature?_

"Well, no. But we do hunt and fight a lot."

_Wonderful. My two favorite things, _Reyson says drily. "You sure this is... good idea?"

"I told you, Reyson. You live here now. Would it kill you to try a new way of doing things?"

_I'm not going to hunt. Period. But the fighting... if I had known how to fight, maybe..._

"You said yourself that herons don't fight. It would be going against your nature."

_But the humans need to pay._

"Agreed. But you're not going to be the one to make them do it. Trust me on this. We'll find a way to punish them, no matter how long it takes." Tibarn pauses and shrugs his shoulders. "But if you want to watch the men train, I don't see anything wrong with that. The more exposure you have out here, the better you'll become at speaking the language."

"Ignore the king's bad manners," Ulki, another one of Tibarn's officers, interjects quietly. "I'm sure you're very good with the language, Prince Reyson."

"You are too kind," Reyson replies, using one of the phrases his mother had once said frequently to the Laguz royals whenever they visited the forest. "But I am... not very good?"

"He'll learn," Tibarn says confidently. "Just give him some time." He places his hand on Reyson's shoulder and not for the first time the heron marvels at how strong Tibarn is in comparison to him. If only he could be like the Hawk King, he wouldn't have to wait to give the humans their payback for the murder of his family. Tibarn is right; there is a lot he can learn from the tribe of Phoenicis, Reyson realizes.

"So, I will watch you train... yes?" the White Prince asks, feeling excited for the first time in months.

"Whatever you want," Tibarn says kindly, giving Reyson's shoulder one final pat. "Anything to make you happy."

0o0o0o0o0o

"So," Tibarn announces, gesturing to the open field in front of them, "this is where the magic happens. We have two types of training here. Most of our fighters learn the art of battling in the transformed state, but some of stronger men practice hand to hand while untransformed. The first is more standard, but both can come in handy in a fight."

_I thought the laguz never fought while untransformed_, Reyson points out.

"It's true that we can't do much damage to the beorc when we haven't shifted. We will never use their steel and iron, so we cannot harm them much without our natural weapons. But since no one here but me can remain shifted indefinitely, it's good to have a back up plan if we must be untransformed when facing our foes. One can do a surprising amount of damage using hand to hand."

_I would like to see. Will Ulki and Janaff demonstrate?_

"You could ask them, but they might not be the best choice. Their builds are very slight, so they prefer to fight shifted. Me, on the other hand..." Tibarn grins rakishly. "I'll gladly take on anyone for your entertainment. Are you sure you won't mind watching? You and violence don't usually mix."

_You were the one who suggested I observe the way of life here_, Reyson reminds him. _If I don't like it, I can just blame you._

"You know, I always thought you were a bit devious for a heron. No wonder you and I always got along so well." Tibarn pulls off his coat and tosses it to the ground. "All right, men. The Prince has expressed an interest in seeing me take one of you on hand to hand. Anyone interested?"

There are only a few volunteers, and Tibarn selects the man who had commented on Reyson's white wings early that morning. Everyone else sits back to watch, even the warriors who had been planning on fighting each other in hawk form only minutes earlier.

"Everyone likes to watch Tibarn fight," Janaff explains to Reyson. "He's the best there is."

"He's the strongest?" Reyson asks in the Common Tongue.

"Easily. Not only does he have the perfect build for fighting, but he's got an all consuming passion for it. Sometimes I think it would be good for him to find another hobby to share his time with."

"But why does he like it?"

"Part of it is a hawk thing. Part of it is him being king and wanting to protect his country to the best of his ability."

"Besides, he likes to show off as much as the next person," Ulki adds. "So you'd better be sure to watch him closely and compliment him frequently when he wins."

"He will win... for certain?"

"Tibarn has never lost a fight since he was a kid. Just watch him. He could snap that guy in two if he wanted."

Reyson turns his attention to the two fighters and watches carefully. Tibarn's body is riddled with scars, nicks, and scratches, but it is obviously in very good shape considering. His muscles are firm and well defined, and every inch of him looks strong and durable. For a moment, Reyson feels a pang of jealousy- his body is humiliatingly weak and fragile compared to the hawk's- but this emotion is shortly followed by undeniable admiration. People often call Reyson handsome, though he's more frequently deemed 'beautiful' due to the delicateness of his looks, but Tibarn is the truly handsome one in every sense. It's no wonder there are women streaming out of Phoenicis Hall to get a closer look at their king with their wide and hungry eyes. With a body that perfect, Reyson wouldn't be surprised if the entire female population was after Tibarn on a regular basis.

The two warriors circle each other for a time, and then, without warning, or at least any warning that the heron can catch, they lunge for each other. Arms pressed hard against each other's shoulders, they push and push, trying to force their competition to the ground. Their muscles strain and their faces grow drenched in sweat, so Reyson can guess how much force they're exerting on each other. He tries to imagine that they're only dancing for a moment, but within seconds Tibarn shifts his weight and they both tumble into the grass, wrestling each other ferociously. The violence is a bit overwhelming for Reyson, so he tries to focus singlemindedly on Tibarn's movements while completely blocking out the competitor who is suffering for them. The Hawk King is so engaging to watch that this technique works well for Reyson during the duration of the fight.

_It must be so wonderful to be so strong_, Reyson murmurs to himself as an arbiter declares Tibarn the victor after he pins his partner to the grass for a few seconds. _Are my people wrong to be so meek? Did we bring death on ourselves by refusing to fight? I wish we could have been like the hawks. I wish we could have ripped the murderers to pieces._

"I'm sorry, Prince Reyson, but I don't understand your language as well as Tibarn does," Ulki says after he has finished cheering. Reyson is surprised to have been overheard until he remembers that Ulki is Tibarn's 'ears,' and would be able to hear him even he spoke in the slightest of whispers.

"It is not important," Reyson says quickly. "I... just thinking."

"Speaking of thinking," Tibarn says triumphantly, breaking into their conversation as he wipes to sweat away from his face and chest with a rag, "what did you think of my little battle, Prince Reyson?"

"You were very good," the heron responds, keeping his eyes to the ground as the hawk redresses himself. "It is nice to be strong?"

"Yeah, it works for me. But don't you go getting any ideas of trying what I just did yourself. I may make it look easy, but if someone ever touched you like that, they'd probably end up breaking you."

_I know. But it is nice to dream. Next to you, I am so frail and powerless._

"And what's wrong with that? You're just fine to me. Though I don't suppose it would hurt you to build up a little stamina, especially considering that you haven't been sleeping or eating much lately." Tibarn pauses for a moment, massaging his chin. "Would you mind going on a little fly with me? I think it may help you get some of your strength back for the time being."

_I know you're only trying to distract me, Tibarn._

"So what if I am? If anyone could use a distraction, it's you. Besides, you've spent the past few months pouting around and ignoring me, and I feel as if we've hardly gotten the chance to speak together as friends. Don't you think that would be nice?"

_A-all right. If you think it's a good idea..._

"I've been waiting for you to be up for this for as long as you've been here. Come on, Reyson. Let's fly."

0o0o0o0o0o

After flying came berry picking, and after after berry picking came a mock scouting mission, a language lesson, and a very raucous demonstration of a sport that involved lobbing balls around that Reyson had wisely declined to play in favor of watching. By time he pays his nightly visit to his father and settles into bed, Reyson is so drained of all his energy that no tears bother to slip from eyes before his head hits the pillow and he is fast asleep. To his utter amazement when he awakens the next morning, he realizes his sleep had been dreamless; not even the nightmare had interrupted it as it usually tended to do.

The stubborn half of him doesn't want to give Tibarn the credit for distracting the sorrow out of him, and he resigns himself to believing that the night had been a lucky accident of fate, and his dreams would return to him before he knew it. But yet again the Hawk King is there to pull him out of bed and force him into a series of of activities to keep him occupied, and once again Reyson avoids reliving the massacre in his sleep, as he does the night after that and the night after that.

"You believe this is right for me to do?" he asks Tibarn one morning, practicing his improving mastery of the foreign tongue. "It feels wrong to push my memories away. I do not wish to... dishonor."

"You dishonor no one by living again. I know it is wrong to speak for the dead, but I think that this is what they would have wanted. They would be glad to see you smiling rather than torturing yourself over things you can't change." Tibarn ruffles Reyson's hair, taking a moment to draw his thick fingers through the cornsilk strands, as fine as spun gold. "Besides, you being here has done wonders for my men. They like a fresh pair of eyes around to admire everything they do. And you've been having a good time, haven't you?"

"Yes. You were right to encourage me to do more here." Reyson looks absently out the window. "I wish I could be more like all of you."

"Really? We're not too much of brutes for your tastes?"

"No. You are..." He struggles to find the right word. "You are strong, but you take good care of one another. No one hurts. No one suffers. All is well because you are a very good king."

Tibarns is somewhat abashed by this, but hides it well. "Well, I'm glad you're impressed. If this is going to be your new home, I want you to be happy here."

"I am happy. Thank you."

"Anytime. So what will it be today, my prince? Is there anything you would like to do?"

"I would like to see you fight again!"

"Again? I think I've already taken on every one of my fighters at your request. Haven't you had enough yet? You're not even supposed to like that sort of thing!"

Reyson blushes. "When you fight, it is like watching a dance or looking at a work of art. It is not like humans chopping each other with their swords or lances. It is beautiful."

"Huh. When you put it like that, I guess I can't really refuse you." Tibarn studies him curiously. "Maybe in return you can sing me one of your old songs. It's been so long since I've heard one that I've almost forgotten what they sound like."

"You know I cannot sing anymore. I have no will for it."

"All I know is you haven't been trying. You've been afraid, but the time has come for you to find your voice again. I believe in you, Reyson. You're one of the last of your clan, and you can't let yourself give up who you are just because you don't want to confront it."

"I'm not ready yet," Reyson insists. "But when I am, I will sing something good for you. I promise."

"Then I'll trust that you'll keep your word to me one day," the hawk relents with a smile. "I'll let you have your fight. But you owe me one."

0o0o0o0o0o

Years pass. As time goes by, Reyson doubts himself with less and less persistence. His heart still mourns at every moment for the family and clan he has lost, but he finds himself able to move on from these emotions and carry on with his life without being weighed down by his sorrow. The boundless joy and friendship of the hawks helps more than he ever thought it would; whenever he feels himself growing weary, they give him new encouragement to carry on. Their strength inspires him to try harder and push himself to become more than the helpless creature he percieves himself as being. He knows that he is limited- his race condemns him to it, no matter how badly he wishes he can change- but he also knows that he has the potential to adapt to suit this new life he has found in Phoenicis.

Tibarn, true to his word, watches over Reyson and Lorazieh with a concern born of deepest affections. As Reyson struggles to recatch his footing in the world, the Hawk King is there with him every step of the way. When the heron needs to speak, he listens. He fights and trains more than he needs to just so Reyson can watch and admire at his leisure. He sacrifices leading hunts so he can stay back in the castle and instruct Reyson in the Common Tongue until he can speak it as adeptly as a native Phoenician. All the while, he waits for his song to come, but it never does. He hears Reyson practicing from time to time, humming notes under his breath or chanting words in Ancient, but whenever he opens his mouth to sing, he falters and abandons his task before the melody can slip from him.

"I still taste the smoke," he admits sadly whenever he catches Tibarn watching him. "Maybe I'll never be able to do it again."

"So say somehow my soul got corrupted. You wouldn't be able to sing a galdr to help me out?"

Reyson frowns. "I... for you I would try my hardest. But nothing will ever touch your soul. I cannot imagine that anything exists in the world with power enough to do that."

"Heh. I suppose its the thought that counts. But really, Reyson. First of all, you've gotta stop thinking I'm invincible. Secondly, if you're not well enough to sing again by now, when are you ever going to be?"

"I do not know. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize to me. I just can't bear the thought of your father reviving to find that I haven't been taking care of you as well as should be."

"It's not your fault. He would... he would understand perfectly."

"You don't know that. He made me promise once upon time that I'd let you sing at my wedding. Out of all his children, he always liked your voice the best. Yours and Leanne's."

"Wedding?" Reyson asks in confusion. "Are you planning on getting married soon?"

Tibarn chuckles. "Heck no! I'm speaking hypothetically. If I did happen to get married and you couldn't sing for me, your father would surely punish me for breaking my promise. It most definitely would be my fault in that case."

"So I should try and learn to sing again before then, right?"

"Look, I was just kidding. I'm not getting married. Ever. So don't even bother doing it for that reason."

"Oh... okay?"

"Sorry for the confusion. All I'm trying to say is that I know you have it in you, so the reason you're not singing must be because I've not made you happy enough here."

Reyson's eyes widen. "What? No, no, no! Don't say that. You've made me very happy, Tibarn! After the forest burned, I never imagined I would ever be this happy!"

Tibarn smiles down at him tenderly. "You don't need to say that to flatter my ego, Reyson."

"I'm not, you... idiot? Is that the word?"

"Idiot? Ouch. Insulted by a heron. What am I coming to?" the hawk mock winces and then gently cuffs Reyson on the chin. "I'm never going to stop waiting for my song, you know. You promised me."

"If happiness will make me sing again, than surely it will not be long," the heron responds softly.

Tibarn ducks his face for a moment, hiding his expression. "Thank you for saying that. I'll keep on waiting for your song, but that's a gift enough for now."

o0o0o0o0o0o

Reyson wonders sometimes how he reached this point. It's been years since his forest and people burned to the ground, but he never truly believed the hole in his heart would ever heal. In the back of his mind, he always assumed he would bleed out and one day pass away unexpectedly, and that would be that. But somehow- he has no idea how or why- he is still living and breathing. In spite of the pain, in spite of the memories that still linger within the shadows of his mind, the world still turns and life still goes on and on and on. He doesn't understand how it can. Why didn't his world stop when he woke up in Phoenicis to the knowledge that nearly everyone he loved had died, but he and his father had somehow miraculously survived? Why didn't time stand still at that moment, the moment his world surely should have ended?

In his heart, he is glad it didn't. Though he still carries his wounds and burdens with him, his new life, the life without his family and clan, is not an entirely unhappy one. In fact, there is something strangely glorious about it. Each morning he wakes to the sight of Tibarn keeping careful vigil over him, still worried that the nightmares will return if he leaves Reyson on his own, and the two of them talk as the first rays of the sun brush against the window, casting a sheath of warmth against their bodies. They remain there together until they are called for breakfast, but even then, they are never really seperated for more than a few minutes at a time. Tibarn is always there to watch after him, to make him happy, to make him strong. Little by little, he feels the hole in his heart closing up and being replaced by something new, and still he keeps living and breathing and still the world keeps turning and turning and turning. Though he doesn't understand it, he doesn't question it lest it should stop just to spite him. He wants to keep living now that he has found a love worth living for. He wants it more than anything.

The love he feels is a strange thing. He has no command over it whatsover; it came to him on its own, right at a time when he least expected to find. Even when he resisted in his stubborn fashion, it wormed its way into his heart and made a home there, and no matter how he tred to throw it out or purge it, it remained within him because its roots are deeply planted. The love is such a weak, vulnerable, and breakable emotion, but it's filled with such strange and indestructable power. It can change everything, weather tragedy, and knit together even the deepest and most painful of cuts. It's like a galdr, Reyson realizes. Saying 'I love you' is just an act of speaking words, but it touches on a magic so potent that it has a lasting effect on a person. When spoken and truly meant, it heals the soul and renews it to what it once was before, somehow making it stronger without altering its nature or changing the emotions that it feels.

During the years in Phoenicis as time travels further and further away from the date of the massacre, the love has slowly become an integral part of Reyson. Every time Tibarn is there to greet him in the morning and take him out into the world to live and grow and experience the pure and humbling beauty of simply existing, it blossoms in his heart and spreads to every corner of his body, making him whole again. It keeps him eagerly awaiting each coming day and holds him back whenever he tries to linger too often in the past. Every day love fills his heart with words, beautiful and moving words that belong to him and him alone. With each passing day, month, and year the words build and build within him, waiting patiently for the day when he would give into the healing balm of affection and at last set them free in the voice he has been waiting so long to find once again.

Whenever he wonders why his life never ended during or after the tragedy and why he is still alive today, he can only come to one conclusion: the love brought him here because it knows that there is only one way for Reyson to find his soul and voice and song again, and his name is Tibarn.

0o0o0o0o0o0o

"It's been almost ten years," Tibarn comments nostalgically as Reyson pulls himself out of bed, yawning and stretching out his cramped limbs. "I still remember the day I found you in the forest when you were half dead and drowning in the stench of smoke. It was the most horrible thing I've ever seen. You and your father were so pale and ashen I was afraid I wouldn't be able to save you in time. And now here you are. Just look at you."

"Here I am," Reyson repeats, rubbing his eyes. "Have I really changed so much?"

"You're certainly stronger, that's for sure. And, if you don't mind me saying, lovelier than ever."

"Lovely? That is a word you hawks use to describe women. It doesn't seem right for you to use it to describe me."

"I can't help what context my men choose to use it in," Tibarn shrugs. "Honestly, the word lovely doesn't have a gender. You can use it on anyone and anything you find beauty in, so there's no problem with me using it for you."

"I see." Reyson adjusts himself so that his shoulder is brushing against the hawk's. "It has really been ten years?"

"It really has." Tibarn surprises Reyson by pulling him against his chest in a tight embrace. "Thank you for staying alive, Reyson. When I thought you might be dead, I was going to charge straight into Begnion and start killing everyone until I ended up killed myself. I didn't see much of a point in living in a world where innocents could be slaughtered at a corrupt empire's whim, and I would have gladly died in the name of avenging you and your kinsmen. But when I saw you collapsed there in front of the Altar, everything changed. I knew that my purpose would always be to protect you and keep you safe."

"And so you have."

"But has it been enough, do you think? You're stronger and you've never been harmed under my care, but I still haven't been able to get you to sing again."

"Yes you have," Reyson protests. "You have for years now. Because of you, I am filled with all of this beautiful music inside myself. My heart has never been overcome by so many songs, not even when I spent my days singing galdrs to the forest!"

Tibarn's face slowly breaks into a grin. "What kind of songs are we talking here?"

"They're all very much like galdrs of rebirth in their lyrics and melodies."

"Galdrs of rebirth, huh? And how exactly have I been inspiring you to write those?"

"Because of how you..." Reyson nervously looks up into the Hawk King's eyes as he trails off. They're staring down at him intently, and he can sense the emotions stewing behind them even though he doesn't dare exercise his ability to read them without Tibarn's explicit permission.

"Yes..?" Tibarn prods.

"Because of how my heart has been reborn all because of you," the heron finishes slowly. "The love you have shown me inspired these songs, and each day you continue to be here with me, a new one comes to my heart the moment I see your face in the morning when I wake up."

As Reyson speaks, Tibarn's hand inches slowly up his arm until it is resting comfortably against the skin of his neck. He leans forward to take in the scent of it, which is like a perfume of spring flowers with a lingering touch of pine needles. Reyson's breath catches at the intimacy of the gesture, which makes Tibarn chuckle, his breath hot against the heron's soft and milky skin.

"You still can't sing these songs for me?" the hawk whispers, his face now only a few inches away from Reyson's.

"N-no. I feel so close sometimes, but it's not there yet. Maybe if we wait for a few more-"

"No. That's not a good idea. I've done a lot of waiting for you already, Reyson. Time for Plan C."

Taking Reyson's jaw in his hands, he tilts his face upwards and bends to meet it with his lips. Reyson blinks in astonishment for a moment, wondering what he is supposed to do to return this gesture properly, but within a few seconds his lips begin to move on their own accord and his hands find their way against Tibarn's chest, resting comfortably against the firm and hard muscles he had long admired during the Hawk King's fights. The kiss ignites all the many words and songs within him, and he feels them travel hurriedly to his throat as Tibarn runs his fingers through his hair and down his back until they come to a tantalizing stop against his thigh. He pulls away slowly and regretfully, feeling as if he is a thirsty man refusing a satisfying gulp of water when all he wants to do is drink and drink to his heart's desire.

"Did it work?" Tibarn asks with a grin as Reyson catches his breath. "Feel like bursting into song?"

Instead of answering him directly, Reyson leans forward, cradles his beloved's face in his small and elegant hands, and begins to sing his galdr of rebirth to the one who had restored his soul.

0o0o0o0o0o0o


End file.
